Flowers
by RCB
Summary: Set in the "Our Father" verse after Shadow and Flame. Basically 4500 words of Sam/OFC:Rebecca UST to make a sick friend on bed rest feel better. Rating is mainly for some crude language by a dastardly OMC. **This story contains general spoilers for S4**


"Let me help you with those," he offered gallantly and Rebecca handed over the large stack of books. He handled them easily, and she tried not to notice his biceps flexing under his short sleeve shirt.

"Thank you," she replied politely, trying not to stare at his arms. She couldn't help it, and he caught her looking. He flashed a big smile and her face was hot instantly.

"So are you doing anything for dinner tonight?" he asked casually while Rebecca shelved the first book from the top of the stack he was holding.

"Dinner?" Her voice came out as an unsophisticated squeak.

"Yeah, you know. Dinner. That meal that takes place after lunch," he joked, and she gave a nervous laugh.

"Together?" she asked and cursed herself for sounding stupid.

"Dates usually work out better that way," he teased her a little and Rebecca felt flushed again.

"A date, I… I don't know," Rebecca hesitated.

"Date. That's where you give me your address, and then I show up at a prearranged time to pick you up," he deadpanned the definition, and then grinned. Rebecca took the next book off the stack and tried to remember the last time she'd gone on a date.

Ten years.

_God_.

"I know what a date is," she said quietly, feeling embarrassed. He was suave, smooth, and good looking and she was just…_her._

"Hey, I'm just teasing," he said quickly and looking concerned. "Just, I really want you to say yes."

"Well, I guess we could talk some more about…" Rebecca began to concede when his cell started ringing.

"Hold that thought, I really have to take this." He gave her an apologetic look, flashed her a beaming smile, and walked away with her books still in his hand.

Rebecca checked her watch quickly; it was nearly time for…

"Hey," she heard behind her.

"Sam, hi," she said, surprised. She hadn't seen him in months, not since that first day when he'd brought his family in. Lucy and Bobby were both with him.

"Dean got held up at the garage and he asked me to bring them today," he explained, and Rebecca nodded.

"Ms. Jacobs!" Bobby said excitedly. "I finally finished Treasure Island!"

"Already?" Rebecca exclaimed with lots of enthusiasm, and smiled at Bobby. He was such a sweet child, and so smart. She ruffled his hair and he held out his copy of Treasure Island to her. "I am so proud of you," she told him and took the book. "I'll check this in for you and then we can look for a new book together after story time today. I guess I'm your personal librarian," she joked and Bobby giggled a little and nodded.

Sam gave a small cough and when Rebecca glanced at him, his cheeks were slightly pink. She made a mental note to check the thermostat, perhaps it had been changed by the new maintenance man. Her blouse was a little thin, perhaps it was warm in the building and she hadn't noticed.

Lucy held out her book and Rebecca took it from her. "Well, how did we like 'Shiloh'?" Rebecca asked her. Lucy just nodded and gave a small smile. Lucy was drastically improved. She quit sucking her thumb, and would respond to questions, however, she still didn't talk.

"Why don't you two go ahead. You know the way by now," she encouraged them. Bobby was off, Lucy right at his heels.

Rebecca turned to Sam in time to see him take a drink from a bottle of water. "Oh, um, there's no food or drink….sorry. Have to enforce the rules. Sort of my job. I guess I rule with an iron fist," she joked to try and soften the reprimand. Sam's eyes went wide and he suddenly began to choke on the water. Rebecca didn't know what to do, and his face was beet red, so she quickly began to pat him on the back.

That seemed to make it worse, and so she stopped patting him but left her hand where it was.

"Everything okay?" Michael asked, coming back from the main foyer area, where cell phone use was permitted. Sam quit coughing, and turned away. He cleared his throat a few times and finally faced them again; though his face was still a little red and his eyes were watering.

"Fine," Sam answered, and Rebecca realized that she still had her hand on his back. She pulled it away and then took her stack of books from Michael, setting them on the nearest reading table.

"I have run over to the bank," Michael apologized. "Are we on for dinner?" he asked, looking hopeful.

"I...yes," Rebecca decided. She had been officially divorced for nine months, and since her last date was with her now ex-husband…

"Great," Michael beamed. "Okay, I'll see you later then. Is seven okay?"

"Oh, actually six would be better," Rebecca answered remembering the program on the History Channel at ten o'clock.

"Six it is," Michael agreed. He took her hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it, making her face flush all over again. She covered her face with the other hand, embarrassed at the display of public affection, and from the corner of her eye she could see Sam staring at the blatant un-professionalism with a fair amount of shock.

Michael let her hand go, and she waved goodbye to him with it, and willed her face to change back to its normal color.

"Who was that?" Sam asked, and she remembered her manners.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't even introduce you." She was appalled at herself. "That's Michael Caprista. He's a vice president for the Bookworm Café chain. They've been setting up small cafes at libraries, and he's been talking to the board about opening one here," she explained.

He opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. He closed it again and stared at her.

"I am sorry that I didn't introduce you," Rebecca said again. It _was_ rude, but not quite appalling enough to make his speechless.

Sam gave her an odd look and took a drink out of his water bottle again, almost seeming to dare her to say something about it. Rebecca's eyebrow raised of its own accord.

"I'm late for story time," she realized. "I'll see you later?"

"No," he said flatly.

"I…well it was nice to see you, Sam." Rebecca walked briskly to the children's section utterly confused.

She'd have to remember to use better manners around Sam, should she see him again. For a gun toting ghost and monster hunter, he was apparently quite sensitive to proper etiquette.

~*~

Michael kissed Rebecca good night in front of her door at 9:45. She felt awkward, and nervous, but he was a skilled enough kisser that she quickly forgot about being nervous. When she finally went in at 9: 57, she nearly invited him inside with her.

Except it was their first date, and Rebecca didn't do things like that.

She was mortified that the idea even crossed her mind.

~*~

On Friday they had a second date, and Michael took her to a movie. Somehow, though she didn't remember how it happened, they ended up quite close, and she liked the smell of his aftershave.

This time he didn't walk her to her door, but said his goodbyes inside of his fancy company car. His hands roamed a little and Rebecca felt a bit like a trollop when she didn't stop him.

When she got out, she was a little out of breath, and couldn't wipe the smile off her face when she put the key in the lock of her door.

~*~

When Monday came and he didn't call, Rebecca began to question her morals. Perhaps she should have invited him in on the second date.

By Wednesday morning she even had convinced herself that she should have invited him in on the first date. Danielle had repeatedly told her that she was being too old fashioned. "You should have jumped his fine ass," she'd stated when Rebecca called her to get her opinion about Michael's sudden lack of interest.

"I can't do things like that," Rebecca whispered into the phone. She was at her desk where anyone could overhear.

"When is the last time you've had sex? Six months?" Danielle asked her.

Rebecca was silent.

"Longer?" Danielle asked incredulously.

Rebecca blushed, and was glad they were on the phone instead of in person.

"A year?" Danielle asked.

"Um, no," Rebecca admitted.

"How long? Two years?" Danielle asked.

"Four," Rebecca whispered shamefully.

"You haven't had sex in four years???" Danielle was completely blown away.

"Well, I've been married. We hardly ever had sex!" Rebecca said too loudly, and a few patrons turned in her direction. Rebecca wanted to crawl under her desk and hide.

Forever.

"Jesus. Christ." Danielle said in disgust.

"Well, apparently he _was_ having sex, just not with me," Rebecca clarified in a whisper.

"That guy was an asshole, wasn't he?" Danielle asked her, getting angry, and Rebecca sighed.

"Can we not talk about him?" she pleaded.

"Right. So call Michael up, ask him over for dinner. Tell him you'll cook for him and answer the door in a nightie," Danielle advised.

"I don't even own a…"

"For Pete's sake, Rebecca," Danielle complained.

"Okay! I'll buy a nightie!" Rebecca agreed quickly, though she absolutely was _not_ wearing it to answer the door.

"Rebecca?" she heard a male voice say and she recognized the voice at once.

Rebecca swallowed hard, and turned around to see Michael standing there with his arms folded and an amused look on his face. "One second," she squeaked miserably. She turned back around and wished the earth would swallow her whole.

"I have to go," she said in a falsely chipper voice to Danielle.

"He's there," Danielle deduced.

"Yes," she said slowly.

"Haul his ass into the ladies room. You're wearing a skirt, right? What am I saying, you always wear a skirt to work. So find a stall, and…" Danielle started to say quickly. Rebecca turned red and quickly hung up the phone.

She turned around and faced Michael again. "Hi," she tried to act casual.

The phone immediately began ringing again (a red light flashed in silence), and a quick glance at the called ID revealed that it was Danielle again. Rebecca ignored it and smiled stupidly at Michael.

"Are you going to get that?" he asked.

"No." She stood up and pretended it wasn't there.

"Okayyy..."

"It was a telemarketer," she lied, using the first thing that popped into her head.

"A telemarketer?" he asked, his ridiculously good looking brow furrowed.

"Yes, from…Victoria's Secret."

"They use telemarketing?" he looked amazed.

"I was as surprised as you. And wow, they are so _pushy_."

He fiddled with his sunglasses and looked somewhat chagrined. "Sorry I didn't call you. My mother was sick, and I had to fly home to take care of her," he apologized.

"Oh, I am _so_ sorry," Rebecca said at once.

"She'll be okay, but she needed me, you know? I'm all she has," he looked so adorably sad, that Rebecca couldn't help but put a hand on his and pat it.

"So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to have lunch?" he asked, looking hopeful.

"It's almost time for the children's story time," Rebecca said, glancing at her watch.

"But you don't read to them," Michael pointed out.

"Well, no. But Lucy and Bobby will be here, and I sit with them," she explained.

"Who are Lucy and Bobby?" he asked, confused.

"They're special patrons." She couldn't think of a less complicated answer. Especially since the full version involved an uncle who rid the library of an angry, hateful mermaid. An uncle with dimples, and sometimes a soft voice; though he could be angry, too, and when he was, his nostrils would flare in such a…

"Well, how about after then?" he negotiated, giving her a bright smile.

"After sounds nice," she nervously smoothed her hair, hoping none was sticking out of her bun.

She saw the kids come into the library, followed by Sam. "I should go." Last week story time had started a few minutes late because she'd been distracted.

"I'll meet you at that diner across the street. In an hour?" he asked, and Rebecca nodded and tried not to blush while she thought about what sort of nightie a man like Michael would like.

She left him, and the kids bounded over. Bobby full of excitement as he chattered about the past weeks book, and Rebecca walked them to the children's section, giving Sam a quick and friendly wave.

He seemed in worse spirits this week, and she wondered if everything was okay at home.

~*~

"It's in the bag," Michael reassured his boss as he fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror. He looked around the men's room, it was in decent shape, though they'd have to hang a few employee hand washing signs when the café opened.

"You're the man. Knew you'd get it sewn up," Fred complimented him.

"These librarians are all the same. Take them out, flirt a little and they're putty in your hands," Michael bragged.

"What's this one like?" Fred asked, married and always eager for details about Michael's conquests.

"Man, she's such a prude," he complained. "Don't worry though, we're heading to lunch. I'm not planning on bringing her back to work, if you know what I mean. She'll be all for the café opening when I'm done with her."

"I don't know, Michael. The prudish ones aren't that easy to crack. I got twenty on the librarian," Fred taunted him.

Michael practiced his easy going smile in the mirror. "Forty bucks says I get her to do it doggy style by five o'clock."

"You're on, hot shot," Fred told him just as someone finished up at the urinal. Michael turned on the faucet, balanced his cell phone against his shoulder, and began to wash his hands as the man did the same next to him.

"It's a bet then. Get ready to pay up. Shoot, I bet I have her on all fours by four thirty," Michael promised and Fred laughed. "Send you a few pic-"

Michael was thrown six feet and against the wall, water flying everywhere, and his cell phone clattered and broke on the tile floor.

"What the…" He didn't finish because he was looking into the seriously pissed off face of his extremely tall attacker. He looked familiar and Michael thought he'd seen him before, but couldn't remember where exactly.

"You dropped this." The man bent down and picked up Michael's broken cell phone. The man's voice was eerily calm, as if he hadn't been the one to cause it to be broken in the first place. Not sure what the guy had planned, he cautiously took it from the man's offered hand.

When he did, he received a punch to the stomach that was so hard, he doubled over and tried to breathe. The cell phone went clattering to the floor again, and was ignored. His eyes watered and the guy grabbed his hair and pulled him upright again, his head hitting the wall and he saw stars.

"My wallet's in my pocket," he wheezed.

"Here's what you're going to do," the man said, his face inches from Michael's own.

"I've got at least two hundred in there. Just take it," Michael begged, not sure he wanted to hear what the guy was going to say.

He was rewarded with another blow to the stomach.

Still struggling to breathe like a fish out of water, the man brought him up again, and again his head collided with the wall.

"You're not going to meet her for lunch," the man informed him, looking deadly serious about it.

"Who? Rebecca?" he asked in confusion. She never said anything about a crazy ex boyfriend, just some husband who wised up and ditched the dork.

"You're not going to talk to her," the man said, and Michael received another blow. He was sure that he had a broken rib and he struggled to breathe, each inhalation painful and sharp. His eyes were streaming tears, and he didn't care.

"Okay!" he agreed immediately.

"If she calls you, then you don't answer," the man went on as he pulled him up. This time his head didn't hit the wall and he was grateful.

"Okay, I got it," Michael agreed.

"You are going to send her a nice letter when you leave town. Once that says she's a nice girl, and pretty. You will tell her that you had an emergency and you won't be back. You will tell her that you are sorry. Because, you _are_ sorry," the man grated and Michael agreed.

"I am. I'm a sorry son of a bitch!"

He got another blow to the stomach and Michael silently vowed that he was going to the nearest police station and…

The man forced him up again and his head hit the wall again. He blinked and the man's face was six inches from his own again.

And his eyes were yellow.

Michael damn near pissed himself as the yellow swirled around and the man told him in a cold, low voice that going to the police was a bad idea. A _very_ bad idea.

"And Michael?"

"Yeah?"

"Send her flowers with that note. Lots of them. You spend under a grand and I'm coming looking for you. Do you understand?" Each note and timbre made Michael want to run screaming like a little girl.

He managed to nod, and the man finally let go of his head.

Holding his abdomen, he watched as the man strolled over to the paper towel dispenser, dried his hands, and tossed it into the waste basket. He left without even giving Michael a glance.

Michael left the library in a hurry, and never looked back.

~*~

Rebecca had primped herself in the ladies room mirror at the library before running over to the diner. She even took Danielle's last minute advice to let her hair down, ditch the reading glasses, and unbuttoned the very top button of her blouse. Actually, Danielle had ordered her to unbutton the top three, but Rebecca wasn't a_ floozy_ for heaven's sakes.

Michael wasn't there when she arrived, so she found a table and ordered a cup of coffee from the waitress. She fiddled with the sugar packets nervously and looked at the door each time that it chimed.

She ordered a second cup of coffee, and played with those sugar packets, too.

When she got to the third, she sighed and paid the bill.

She didn't bother to look at the door when it chimed; Michael was clearly not coming.

"Ms. Jacobs?" she heard behind her.

Bobby and Lucy were there, while Sam was looking for a table. "Oh, you can have this one. I'm done," she called over to him. He nodded and headed over, but didn't look her in the eyes. She wondered if he was still upset with her because of last week.

"We went to the park. We couldn't stay because Lucy…" Bobby trailed off. "Anyway we're getting ice cream now."

"Well, ice cream sounds nice," Rebecca said smiling, deciding not to comment on Lucy anxiety problems. The poor girl. Not for the first time, she wondered what had happened to them.

"Do you want some?" Bobby offered, and Rebecca chuckled and declined.

"Are you sure? There's room for one more," Sam offered, finally looking at her.

"My lunch break is over. I have to head back, but thanks for inviting me." Rebecca smiled and did her best to pretend she didn't just get stood up.

"I thought you were having lunch with a friend?" Bobby asked, looking around. She kicked herself for having mentioned it when she was helping them pick a new book for the week.

"He couldn't make it," Rebecca explained weakly.

"You had to eat lunch by yourself?" Bobby asked. Rebecca blinked and tried to think of an answer that would prevent further questions.

Sam saved her by asking the kids what kind of ice cream they wanted. While Bobby was debating his choices out loud, she gave Sam a grateful look. "See you all next week," she said politely and took a step towards the door.

Bobby said goodbye, Lucy gave a small wave, and Sam just nodded in her general direction.

As she walked across the street, buttoning her top button back up, she wondered what his problem was with her exactly.

~*~

"Wow! Where did all these flowers come from?" Bobby asked in awe at the ridiculous display that took up not only her desk, but had to be spread out among the bookcases as well.

"My friend sent them to apologize for not meeting me for lunch last week," Rebecca explained to him.

Bobby continued to take in the ostentatious array of flora.

"He must really like you," Bobby said in appreciation.

"I guess, but to tell you the truth, I don't really much like flowers," Rebecca admitted, and waved her hand dismissively at them.

"But they're awful pretty," Bobby countered.

"They are," she agreed. "Why don't you guys go on and I'll check these books in for you."

The kids headed straight to the reading room, and Sam gave her a strange look. "You don't seem all that impressed," he commented, looking at one of the tulip bouquets.

"Eh, if you want to impress a librarian, send books not flowers. They last forever," she shrugged as she entered in the bar code into the computer.

"Forever," Sam repeated.

"The flowers will be dead by the end of the week," she shrugged.

"These are from a guy?" he asked, and Rebecca looked at him. He was staring at the roses now.

"Michael. He had to return home," she explained.

"Sorry," he apologized, but continued to look at the roses and not at Rebecca.

"It's fine," she insisted. It never would have worked out. She had no plans to let him move a café into _her_ library and once he figured that out, she suspected he'd suddenly lose interest in her.

People would be too tempted to bring their purchases into the library, and books could get ruined. She suppressed a shudder at the thought.

"Just out of curiosity, which book?" Sam asked, finally looking at her.

"Excuse me?"

"What book should he have sent?" Sam rephrased the question.

"Oh. Well I was always a fan of Tolkien," she mused out loud. Not that Michael would have known who Tolkien was anyway. She'd tried to discuss books with him on their first date, and he'd been utterly clueless. She'd brushed it aside, since she hadn't gone out with him for his literary knowledge in the first place.

Michael was charming and experienced, and she had decided he'd be a good start as she "launched into the dating scene", as Danielle put it. She wasn't so sure about the "launching" part, but some practice at dating had seemed a sensible idea.

Sam had a weird expression on his face, and seemed to want to inspect the flowers some more. Rebecca noticed that he had a water bottle in his hand again. Could the man not remember any rules? She supposed she should be glad he seemed content to enter the library during regular business hours, and that thought made her smile despite herself.

"Sam?" she said politely.

"Yeah," he asked, looking at her and she noticed his cheeks were tinged in pink.

"Drinks are not permitted past the foyer. Sometimes I think you're testing my authority, mister. Don't make me confiscate your water and put you on patron probation. I can, you know," she lied and did her best to maintain a straight face while she scolded him.

"Sorry. I was…my mouth was really dry." The faint pink bloomed into a patchy red and Rebecca watched it with fascination for a few seconds before remembering the time again.

"Oh, I have to go," she told him quickly. "And I'm just kidding, you know."

He cleared his throat and gave her a weird half smile. "I read it."

"Read what?" she asked, completely confused.

"Lord of the Rings," he said, and the patchiness became all filled in until his face was mostly all red, and he began to fidget. "When I was eleven."

"That's nice. Did you enjoy it?" she asked him, not sure why he was embarrassed about reading a wonderful piece of fiction. She loved the way it was written.

"Yes, very much," he swallowed hard, and fidgeted some more, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm late, but have you read The Hobbit?" she inquired. When he shook his head that he hadn't, she smiled. "Well, then I'll get you a copy when I help the kids pick out theirs. I can be your personal librarian, too," she joked. He had a strange expression on his face, and his eyes were slightly wider. "Okay."

"Bye, Sam."

"Bye, Ms. Jacobs."

"Um, you can call me Rebecca." She was confused as to why he'd even call her that. She had thought they were at least friends.

"M'kay Becca," he mumbled to the floor, hands stuffed into his pockets and he shuffled his feet. She briefly considered correcting him, but it had a nice ring to it.

As she hurried to the reading room she played the way he said Becca over and over again in her mind.

When she got there, Marcy, the volunteer who read to the children, gave Rebecca a strange look. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, why?" Rebecca asked.

"Your face is all red."

"I…it's warm in here."

"I'm fine. It's not warm in here at all."

Rebecca mumbled something about coming down with a cold. When Marcy glanced outside to where Rebecca knew that Sam was waiting for the kids to finish, Rebecca hastily walked away to sit with Bobby and Lucy as always.

Rebecca did her absolute best to listen to the story with interest, and not look in Sam's direction.

She failed miserably.

~*~


End file.
